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Azad Gel Chapter 1 – New Dawn

Savid Hakim strode through the rocky mountain pass outside the small village where the Peshmerga had chosen to set up their base of operations. They had been pushed out of the town of Az Zibar by the Kurdish Democratic Party following the union of the KDP with the Iranian Leadership, and the denunciation of the union by the leader of the Kurdish Repulican Union. While the KDP and the KRU had once acted together, both viewing the overtly socialistic Patriotic Union of Kurdistan as a greater threat to Iraqi Kurdistan as a whole.

Now, with a Fatwa out against them, written by the Supreme Ayatollah himself, many cells of the KDP had turned on the KRU, and those few cells who had managed to survive the sudden and brutal fight had withdrawn to the village of Tall’Suma and where currently workign to fortify the village. However, it’s location was a problem. There where few roads in the area, none of which reached the isolated village. Water was rather scarce, and had to be hauled in along with massive quantities of food. But the most important supply the KRU was missing was spare parts and ammunition for their AK-47, FN FAL, and FN CAL Assault and Battle Rifles, as well as the supply of IMI Galil Battle Rifles that Mossad had promised them.

The latter was probably a moot point, as Israel was more concerned with the Soviets massing on the borders of Afhganistan, and mas moving the arming of Anti-Ayatollah Militias to a back-burner until the situation in Afghanistan was resolved, or at least understood.

The nineteen year old Savid had been one of the key contacts to the Mossad agents in that weapons deal, chosen because he was the most unabashedly Pro-Israel, Pro-Republican man in a group of Kurds who where prominently Pro-Israeli and Pro-Republican. That Savid was also a rising star in the Kurdish Republican Union, and had taken the Executive Officer position in the Command Cell of the KRU’s Peshmerga, and was looking to take over the Command Cell within months.

As he marched through the pass with the cell, out on a routine patrol, the morning calm was shattered, as a pair of Soviet RPD Machine Guns opened up on the patrol.

Savid dove tot he ground, rolled to bear on the unit that had ambushed his patrol, and opened fire on the machine gun nests with his AK-47 Battle Rifle, pumping three round bursts of 7.62 mmR ammunition into the rocks surrounding the nests as he tried to get a clear shot on the forces he was now recognizing as the PUK Peshmerga.

That threw him for a loop as it was widely believed that the PUK was operating closer to the Syrian border. Regardless, they where the threat, which meant that they needed to be eliminated before they could get into the village to wreak unimaginable havoc upon the non-combatants taking shelter there.

All thoughts beyond mere survival where driven out of Savid’s mind when AK-47 and AK-74 Assault rifles opened fire on the patrol from the other side of the pass, forcing Savid to start digging with the spade on his belt, hoping to build a foxhole of somekind to give him protection from the flying led that was whining past his ears.

As he dug, he heard the sound of a Kudu Horn, as the leader of the patrol, Aslan Havid called for re-enforcements from the town. The call was cut off as Aslan was cut down in a hail of bullets. A rising war scream rose in the throats of the KRU as a number of their fighters jumped from their fighting positions, and began to pick their way up to the to the enemy fighting positions.

Answering Kudu Horns sounded from the northeast as fellow KRU Fighters rushed to meet the fighting and rescue their embatled brethren. The PUK Fighters began to withdraw as the first of the KRU Reinforcements arrived and pummeled the socialists, shouting “Frag Out!” so often it might as well have been their war cry.

A short hour and a half after the battle had been joined, the last of the PUK Peshmerga had been driven away, and the KRU began to gather up their fallen for the long walk home to the village.

A great mourning wail rose from the families of the injured and deceased, led by Gona Havid as she mourned the loss of her husband. Adem Havid, only eleven years in age, stood numb by his mother, trying to pretend to be an adult as he fought away the tears. Savid walked towards the home that Aslan had built, and lowered his friend and commander’s body to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Gona. I tried to keep him safe, but…” Savid couldn’t finish, he couldn’t find the words to tell her just how much he wished he could have taken Aslan’s place, and left the room as Gona turned a stony gaze on him, dismissing him with her hands.

Savid ducked out of the building, and almost ran head-long into Aram Nagi, his right hand man, as the older man handed him a note, “We got the camel flea ridden bastards who ambushed us, including the man who shot Aslan. They are being held under the Mosque, seperately, with men who didn’t fight guarding them.”

“Good thinking,” Savid said, as he walked over to the Mosque.

The guards snapped to attention as Savid walked past, returning their salutes as he entered the building. Making his way down to the holding cells the KRU had dug under the mosque not long after their arrival. After several flights of stairs, lit only by the light of the bare electric bulbs hanging over the landings on the long stairway to the halls full of holding rooms they had dug. Most of them where still being dedicated to storage for weapons, food, ammunition, and electronics.

The PUK leader was thoroughly roughed up, with a split lip, broken nose, one eye swollen shut, an arm that was clearly broken, and from the way he was sitting, he had at least one broken rib. Savid smiled, his boys had done a good job of roughing the guy up, which meant he would be more receptive to Savid’s questioning. His rather intense and painful interrogations.

“How did you find us?” Savid asked, as he sharpened the knife he had pulled from his belt.

“I will never tell you, you won of a dog and a pig!” the man spat, landign a glob of blood and saliva on Savid’s cheek.

Wiping it off with a small towel, Savid held up the knife, letting the light from the bare bulb overhead flash into the PUK’s eyes. “Yes, yes you will. Everybody breaks eventually, and the more bravado you show beforehand, the sooner you break…”

Savid walked out a few moments later, wrapping his thumb in a bandage and cleaning his blood off of his knife as he did so.

“You hurt yourself in the interrogation, you get your target wondering what are you going to do to him. Works better than actually hurting them every time. Come on, we need to administer a little justice.”

Savid requisitioned one of the guard’s Makarov PM Handgun, and asked for a small number of them to follow him to the stage at the center of town, while he sent a pair of them to seek out a member of the KRU and drag the man up on stage.

Nadar Qadi was waiting on the stage, his arms padlocked as the Security Guards aimed their rifles at his back, daring him to try and escape. Savid had suspected that Nadar had turned on the KRU for some time, recently tenatively confirmed by his Mossad contact. However, Nadar had been a friend of Aslan’s, so he had been untouchable. Now, Aslan was dead, and Savid had the evidence he needed to have Nadar summarily executed for his crimes.

Mounting the stage, he noted the absolute quiet the fell over the gathered crowd, as all eyes turned to where he stood, the Makarov pistol heavy in his hand.

“Nadar Qadi, it has been discovered that you are responsible for betraying our location, that you have been trafficking in weapons and information with our enemies, and of attmepting to mount a coup against Aslan using the PUK as your basis of support. How do you plea?”

“Not guilty!” He shrilled, terror forcing his voice up several octaves.

Savid called up a number of witnesses, each of who gave testimony for and against, and put the question ot the people for a vote a mere two and a half hours later. The vote was overwhelmingly guilty.

“Nadar, you have been found guilty of Treason against the Peshmerga. The penalty is death.”

Nadar began to scream his opposition, only to be silenced with the sound of a gunshot. The crowd was silent for a moment, before they began to cheer for Savid, proclaiming him their new leader.

Savid managed to control his face, forcing the sickness he felt back down into his gut, where it could wait until he was in private to release itself.

Finally released from the resulting feast with the dusk, Savid stole out into the caves overlooking the village, where the signs indicated that Malachi Sokolsky, Savid’s Mossad contact, was waiting.

“Was that really necessary?” Sokolsky asked, his face indicating the revolt he felt.

“This isn’t New York City, justice is far more immediate out here. If I didn’t kill him now, he would rally allies and try to start a civil war. I needed to stop that from happening.”

“Fine, I’m just glad your little group of free men survive, your the only allies we have in this sorry ass country.”

“We will not abandon you, and we will survive. But only if we can get the arms we need. Those AK-47’s are wearing out, we need new arms.”

“They are on their way, just have to bribe enough customs agents in Syria and Turkey to get them here. Can’t exactly ship them through Kuwait anymore, not with the current location you guys are hiding in.”

“Fine, whatever, just get them here. We are going to need them very soon, it looks like Iraq is prepping for another push into Kurdistan.”

“Not likely, looks like the Soviets are getting involved in Afghanistan.” Sokolsky turned to leave, only to pause and turn back towards Savid, “Hey, do you know anything about the consturction down at Osirak?”

“No, we don’t. But I have contacts in that region. I will let you know what I find.”

Disclaimer

These stories are a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Groups, Places and Incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.